Changes in the Wind
by muyany
Summary: Drizzt spends his first winter on the surface and wonders about the changes in nature and life.


_Ok, I know it has been a while! Anyone missed me? I had inspiration but it left me before this was finished, so it's no that great :s _

_Disclaimer: if you know what the word 'disclaimer' means, it should be quite obvious, but for the sake of tradition (and because fanfiction wants me to) 'I do not own Forgotten Realms'_

_setting: the rangers and Roddy have given up their chase and Drizzt finds a place to live near Dead Orc Pass. Early winter. (It's been 2 years since I read the 3 book, please excuse any mistakes)_

_Changes_

Darkness had fallen some hours ago, but still Drizzt walked on.

After having spend his fist few months on the surface he was mostly used to the daylight, but still the Drow would find the darkness a relief of the sun's often too bright glare. The night too, he had found great joy in, for the sight of the stars was not something he had been able to enjoy during his life in the Underdark.

Not pondering these many changes since his entrance in this whole new world, Drizzt strode on. There was no real goal in his silent march, but to keep his mind from wandering to dangerous places.

The air had been getting colder and the world seemed to change with it, seemingly without reason. The previous day had not been the first that the Drow had noticed a thin layer of ice covering a shallow pond.

It were the troubled thoughts these natural alternations brought he was fleeing for. Truly, he often found himself thinking, what do I know of this place, wonderful as it may be?

The answer never pleased him.

He had encountered many phenomena he would have never thought existed: the tall towering flora, for witch he had not yet found a name, appeared to emit a life of their own and made the surrounding area look so much more alive, disregarding his own loneliness. The wide open plains which he could see from the mountains, and the vastness of the sky made the world seem so much larger. And the mountains themselves formed the magnificent bones of the earth, where previously he had only known the empty, dark tunnels underneath them.

As much as the surface appealed to him, as much as every new discovery left him breathless with excitement, it ultimately brought as faint sadness, when he once again failed to find the word that would describe his findings adequately. He knew no language that would express the thoughts that had run through his head as he first saw an owl look at him sagely on one on his first nights in the open world, nor his joy as he had noticed the colours of the sunrise were never quite the same or the feeling as the tall grasses, so different from the mosses of the Underdark, slipped through his fingers.

He was like a child, he often found himself thinking, even now as he walked to escape his own mind's concoctions. A child that is allowed its first peak of the world outside its protected home. More often than not, this notion brought the not-so-happy memory of his first trip outside his House, and his first taste of Drow justice.

In a sense, it had been not so different on the surface. The delight he had felt at his first taste of blueberries and the spectacle of the ever changing sky, had taken away all worries till the prospect of the future held no fear at all anymore. But involuntarily he was always reminded of the farming family his presence, as he had convinced himself, had doomed and the following pursuit by the rangers, the dwarf and the burly man with the yellow dog.

There were no words in the Drow language to express his anger at the injustice, towards himself and the family, and there were none with which to speak of his guilt to any but himself. For indeed, the Drow language possessed no expressions of love and friendship, but neither did it posses those for unfairness or guilt. There was but the pretence of order amid the chaos where true justice was a foreign idea, there were never any regrets, for the sole motive for every action was personal gain. Thus the concept was a strange one for every Dark Elf. Almost every one.

As he restlessly walked on, Drizzt realised the futility of his action, he could not turn his thoughts from the recent disaster it seemed. He let out a loud sigh as he came to a halt and took a few moments to gaze at the moon. It was partially obscured by great clouds and illuminated the earth in an uncanny way as they drew past. It was not frightening to look at the soft light of the glowing orb, it was even comforting in a way, it were the shadows cast by the drifting clouds that lend it its eerie feeling.

I am glad for the moon, Drizzt mused, for she differs from the sun and lets the world seem altered without it being so. She shows us a different perspective of the world and where we stand in it. She shows me that things may be unlike what they appear to be.

Things seemed less hopeless as he thought of this, perhaps all he needed was a new point of view.

Immediately he saddened again, for there was no one, he realise with brutal clarity, who would share it with him. He turned around, resolved to return to the shallow cave he had claimed as his home for the time being and find some sleep for the rest of the night, though he strongly suspected that that too might prove to be a futile task.

As he turned he searched his memory for the Sverfneblin word for guilt. That was one he knew. He had discerned it's meaning during his conversation with Belwar about the Burrow warden's role in the Drow raid then more than a decade past.

He missed his friend, for though Guenhwyvar was still his loyal and unjudging companion, his feline friend could not answer him in his quandary with anything more than a reassuring pat or intense stare.

He whispered the word to himself, in the dark of the night where no one was aware of his presence. And though the word itself would have had him smiling in fond remembrance of his stubborn Gnome comrade at any other time, the concept behind it was as painfully clear this night as it had been for all those following his flight from the mountain village.

For a brief moment Drizzt wondered whether he and Belwar would have a similar discussion concerning his involvement in the slaying of the framers, were they to encounter each other that instant. The vision that thought granted him, did succeed in making him smile. For though he had provoked the Gnome with words and guided him thusly to draw his conclusions and liberate him of his guilt, he was wholeheartedly convinced that the Burrow warden's only words would be that he would knock some sense into Drizzt's head with those beautifully crafted hands of his.

His smiles had become rare, even more so than before.

He tried to recall the Sverfneblin for friend, and was strangely relieved as it came easily to him. The word was spoken no louder than a whisper. His voice grew louder as he found more words to aid his conquering smile. What had begun as muttered phrases would have become a shouted cheer of rejoicing, had the elf not discovered that the sentences were not complete. There were gaps between the words of few-used verbs or rarely-heard synonyms, he couldn't fill. His grasp on his' comrade's tongue was failing.

Ai, for sure, it truly would seem such a little thing to any but me, he believed. To forget a language one would never speak again was surely no great loss. But to him it was.

In Blingdenstone few had known the Drow language, and of all of them only Belwar, the Deep Gnome he had wronged so, had been the only one willing to teach him through it. The language had not as much limits as his own, though it still lacked the vocabulary to name the earthly wonders. Above all it had been a sign of trust between the two of them, a sign that Belwar welcomed him into his city and life. It was what had enabled him to interact with the other Sverfnebli. Without the knowledge of the language, limited though it may have been, he had at least not remained an outsider as he had expected, feared and hoped for. To forget the language meant he was forgetting the hospitality and trust the Gnomes had offered him. He may not ever have need of his understanding of the tongue again, but it was a precious thing to him, even more so now that he had fully realised how hopeless his situation was, how small the change he would find someone willing to teach him the Common Tongue.

He had only come to realise the extend of his limitations in communication when he had sought contact with the small boy from Maldobar and later with its siblings. But the most disappointing experience had been when he had approached the surface Elf that had been part of the band of rangers that had tried to track him.

The Elf had been able to understand him as he spoke in the Drow language and had replied in the same tongue. But all words that had been spoken to him had been filled with hate and prejudice. He had wondered since that day whether he had missed his chance. Had been a chance at all?

At first when he had recovered his strength after the avalanche of stone, he had considered going after the group, as ironic as it may have sounded. He had longed to find the Elf that had been in their company, for had he not shown him kindness by letting him go and even offering him a healing potion? Had the rest of the rangers not accepted his decision to let the lone Drow go, thus proving they did not think him guilty?

He had wanted nothing more than to run after them, for surely they would leave McGristle in his hometown before continuing onward. Perhaps he would even have been able to meet the surface Elf on his own. He had not done it, his earlier disappointment would not let him. And perhaps, though he was reluctant to admit it even to himself, he had feared to bring the doom that seemed to cling to him like a cloak, upon the rangers. He had feared the possibility of a new loss to add to his list.

Perhaps it would be better not to learn the Common Tongue then, he thought, for would to know it not increase my wishes to establish contact with the humans or Elves?

No, he decided as he neared the home-proclaimed cave, I cannot risk to lose any more friend, I cannot be entrusted with any more lives that will, in the end, only be lost to me. It may have been a selfish thought, but one he was almost certain of was the right one. After all, there was no one to prove him wrong, was there?

The wind picked up again and tugged at the few strangely coloured leaves on some nearby tree, the clouds drifted by more quickly. Drizzt pulled his cloak closer around him, trying to save some warmth. He did not understand this seasonal change, but he knew that the nights were growing longer and it would still be some hours before the sun would begin it's ascent. Curious now he went to the small pond that had frozen over on previous nights. Crouching so as to avoid as much contact with the cold ground as possible, he bend over the pool. In the poor light it was too hard to tell whether it had turned to ice or not as the water was mostly still as it was. Lightly he ran his fingers over the surface, finding it indeed to be ice.

The wind had chased away the clouds from the imminence of the round moon, too make the night a seemingly less hostile place. Drizzt could now see the cold, hard substance he had touched earlier. As he bend lower, to look, he found himself staring at his own reflection in the ice. It was nothing new, he had often seen his image in the pond. Yet, it appeared different now, the moon cast a stranger light over the area, making his white mane glow. The dark blue, nearly black of the heavens made it somehow harder to find himself it the picture he saw before him. Something else was wrong with his reflection and he soon found it to be the slight cracks in the ice. There were a few dents and ripples where the water would have been smooth.

The wind drove the clouds further, but others were not far off to obscure the comforting glow. As the rays of moonlight were blocked once again, the image was completely deformed. The Dark Elf could not find anything recognizable on the cold surface. He stood and walked the few remaining paces to the cave, where he had left Guenhwyvar to warm up the animal skins for his return. He was greeted with a tired yawn and a reprimanding stare for having stayed way longer than he should have. Drizzt had to smile slightly, before crawling over to his friend. He had risked going out without the cat, as he had see no foe in at least a tenday.

Perhaps, he thought tiredly but still smiling, they have gone into hiding for this ridiculous weather.

'Tonight, my friend,' he murmured to the dozing panther, 'we sleep and perhaps tomorrow, when dawn break, the ice will have melted and we can see again.'

_So that's it, I think it's the longest I've written so far. Also I think people get bored before they reach the end. Oops_


End file.
